Poetry · Poem
Citrus Winter
An account of the citrus groves of Polk County under a hard frost warning.
The smudge pots flicker in the dark while the wind-machines spin cold air to keep the orange blossom warm.
In the rows, the fruit hangs low, heavy globes of oil and sugar threatened by the northern freeze.
We wake at four to check the glass and find the leaves are rimed with ice like delicate, frozen glass.